


Murder

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Ex Sex, Los Angeles, Love/Hate, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach's going away party.  Shit goes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder

_**Murder**_  
 **Title:** Murder  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** <\--  
 **Pairing:** Zach/Chris  
 **Author's Notes:** Zach's going away party. Shit goes down.

The night is young, barely even sundown, and still Zach's house seems filled with shadows and bleak attempts at lighting. Chris doesn't arrive late, just not early. In the past he might've been hanging around long before the official start of the party to help set up or simply because he didn't count as your run-of-the-mill guest or whatever. It's not a big deal, but the silent shift of Chris not being expected to show up until the party does officially start feels firm and final.

There's tons of people there. In fact Chris is pretty sure they've wrangled up the entire cast of Heroes, all Star Treks past and present, and possibly every acquaintance Zach's ever made since birth

Okay, so that may have been exaggerating, but Chris prefers to think of it as sophisticated hyperbole. And anyway feeling like the odd one out doesn't help.

Chris makes his way through the dark crowded foyer, nodding at people he knows but mostly just focused on getting to the alcohol as quickly as possible.

He can hear Zach's laughter somewhere in the depths of the crowd, and it grates on the edge of his consciousness. He's anxious about the whole thing a lot sooner the anticipated, grabs a drink and seeks out the first vaguely recognizable person he can find.

"Chris! I haven't seen you in ages!"

Damn, he always forgets how hot Zoe is. "Hey," he says, but it comes out more squeaky than sexy.

" _Yeah_ ," Zoe says, in that happy fake leading tone of voice. "Yeah. So you aren't going to New York with Zach after all, huh?"

"Well, you know. Other opportunities sprang up and you know how it is."

"Mmhmm _yeah_ . . ." And Chris can damn well hear the scorn slathered all over that little 'yeah'—he's not fucking deaf.

"Yeah," Chris says shortly, figures it's only fair to keep his bitchiness out there in the open.

Zoe nods and sips and has really quite a graceful neck and shoulders and Chris has forgotten why he never tried to get with her during filming. You know, before the surfacey Real Housewives of Star Trek banter had sullied it all. "Yeah, I thought you guys were going to do a play together or . . . ?"

Chris swallows the surge of anger at her stupid tone of voice, clears his throat to buy time. "I mean, it's not like we were off to be a two-man show or something. It's just something we were talking about, it wasn't like a group decision or anything, just, you know. It wasn't like we were planning this all out together or whatever."

"Right right," Zoe nods. "But I mean I can remember you going on and on about doing theater, and then you did that one play, right? I dunno, I don't know the details, I just know that _Zach_ was surprised you backed out."

"Yeah, well, I actually see someone out on the patio I've just _got_ to catch up with, so."

"Sure! Yeah. Nice seeing you, Chris."

"Uh huh."

Chris flees, grabs another soothing beer on his way out back.

The air is undeniably springish, but it's also got that chilly damp that comes with nightfall. In any case it does its job clearing Chris's head.

He can see former castmates on all sides that he'd have run up to and clapped on the back and been glued to for the rest of the evening, but somehow the secret exclusive fun they'd shared before the movie's release and during the tour and at every official function had fizzled out. It's not like this is Chris's first rodeo, but it certainly was his first experience with a cast that really did bond without manufacturing anything, and sometimes Chris wonders if he's the only one that had been so thrilled with it all.

And yeah, Chris knows that their little Star Trek family's more or less dispersed by now, geographically, but there's something about _Zach_ really finally moving that makes it seem really final.

"Chris Pine!"

Chris sees John and he wants to feel an easy camaraderie but he's too afraid to lose it to indifference again so he keeps it safely to one side. "'Sup Jojo."

John goes in for the side hug back clap thing. "I fucking hate it when you call me that!" he grins.

Chris laughs.

"So! What's the deal? Since when are you not going to New York?"

"Dude, this isn't, like, breaking news. Excuse me for not turning down a movie with Denzel _for the second time_."

"No man, I get it, I get it." John takes a minute to drink in the somehow shadowy lighting there in the tiki lamp forest. "So, you know what happened, right?"

"Why yes, of course. Something transpired." They share a perfectly dumb look. Chris breaks it: "Okay, asshole, could you be any more vague? Or girly?"

"Psh, Chris. Just because we're grown men doesn't mean we don't gossip."

". . . You sure about that?"

John laughs. "No, come on, you don't know about what Zach said?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Chris is laughing to disguise his suddenly hammering heart.

"Oh man, you _don't_ know. Oh jeez . . ."

"Well fuck, you kinda have to tell me now, man."

"Look, like, I know you guys have been kinda weird lately, but Zach never talks about it because you guys are friends and you're allowed to do whatever you want, and I think he knows that, but it's just that, you know . . ."

"Uh?"

" _Well_ , he just might've gotten hammered doing shots a couple weeks ago and gone on a Christian Bale-esque rant about how you abandoned him. I mean, I'm summarizing, but believe me that's better than the details."

Obviously Chris had known how deeply pissed off Zach was about it, no matter that they hadn't like, signed a fucking apartment lease together or some shit and he had no _reason_ to be pissed . . . anyway Chris could tell because they'd stopped hanging out like clockwork, like it has been decreed, and Zach was painstakingly passive during any little exchange of words they did have, anymore.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, sorry. I dunno, man, like we _talked_ about how we both, separately, wanted to get back into theater. And there may have been some hair brained scheme involving picking up and shipping off to New York but it was kind of like a, 'Hey, wanna go see that new movie?' conversation where you end up just seeing something completely different when you get there anyway."

"It's . . . _kind_ of like that."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, I dunno, man, just thought you should know." And Chris feels bad for lumping John in with the likes of Zach and Zoe.

"No, yeah. Thanks, man. Hey, well, I gotta . . ."

"Yeah yeah, me too. Hey." Concerned!Cho leans in close. "Text me the next time you're bored."

Chris laughs. "You're all up in my grill, dawg."

"Fuck you."

Chris laughs and heads back inside.

The transition back into Zach's house is something he feels physically. The dim color-sucking lights and sharp shadows to keep the atmosphere thoroughly apprehensive. 'Foreboding' was a good word, and it wasn't one Chris usually used to describe a party, especially one of Zach's, but the very sound of people's conversations rang dark in Chris's ears.

"Oh. I didn't th—I didn't know you'd be here."

Chris turns around into Zach, has to do an elaborate shuffle to get out of his personal space and secure his drink. In fact, he might as well down the rest of it right now—you know, just in case of spillage. "Why?" Chris gasps.

Zach stands there sepia'd and tall and foreign and familiar. The way he wears his douchey hat, the way he sips his acai-infused tea. He isn't drinking tea now, obviously, but still: fuck him. "I dunno, I just didn't."

I'll always, always keep the memory of . . . "Okay, well, I didn't get you a present or anything, so." They stare at each other. "Bon voyage!"

Chris escapes Zach's gaze, escapes into the sea of shadow people to get a goddamn refill.

"Chris?" calls a faint female voice amid the ruckus of the makeshift bar. " _I_ didn't know you were coming."

"Oh. _Hey_. Yeah. Hey, you!" He's completely blanked on her name, totally knows it, is looking stupid.

She nods blondely, short and cute and blinking up at him through elaborate makeup. Someone taps her on the shoulder to say "See you Saturday, Hayden!" all cosmically and Chris rolls his eyes at himself. _Duh_.

Hayden frowns.

"Oh! Not you," Chris explains. " I was—" They share a look of stupidity. "Yeah, never mind. So how's life?"

Hayden plasters on a smile. "Oh, you know, just wondering about my employment status and getting hammered while one of my good friends moves away."

Oh, whoops. "I'm sure Heroes will get . . . picked . . . _Yeah_ , I mean, I'm sure you have a long career ahead of you."

Hayden just keeps on smiling, knocks back a judicious mouthful of her wine. Is she even legal? "Yeah," she smiles. "So, you ever done the long distance thing before? It really can work. I had a long distance boyfriend once."

Keyword: once. No, better not say that—hey, wait a sec. "Boyfriend?"

Hayden widens her eyes as if to say, _What, you're retarded and a smartass?_

"Let me just make sure I'm interpreting this right, here," Chris begins. "You think Zach and I are dating?"

And now that 'duh' look that only true adolescents can pull off. "Well aren't you?"

"No! _No_ no no no no!" Her pretty raised eyebrows in response. "I mean, we were for like three seconds like three years ago, but we don't really work like that, so." Why the fuck am I telling you this?

" _Oh_. Well. Hm."

"What."

"Oh nothing, nothing. It's just interesting, that's all. I just sort of got the impression that you'd had a big fight and now he's trying to get as far away from you as possible, but I don't know."

Missed it by that much. And Chris is being fucking valiant in his effort not to glare. "No- _pe_."

"Well!" Hayden sighs. "It's been nice catching up, Chris, but I've really gotta go and mingle, _you_ know how is."

Chris just nods. Her stupid tan is stupid.

Not a second later there's this sounds like a car alarm in his ear: " _Chris_?" Kristen. "Oh. I didn't know you were coming . . ."

Aand Chris is on the verge of swearing off women for good. He says through his teeth, "That's me."

"Oh man! I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Yeah, well."

"Hey, so . . ." Kristen fixes her bracelet, stalling. "Zach going away sucks, huh? I never thought he'd really do it."

"Yeah."

"And in any case, I thought you'd be around to keep him company."

"Yeah."

"But I mean, you know, he has friends in New York so."

"Yeah."

"Hey, we should totally hang out sometime, okay? I'm serious."

"Yeah."

"Mmkay, hon, have fun!" She flounces off and Chris wonders what's just happened.

Chris doesn't do much more socializing, just drinks and sits in on other people's conversations without contributing to pass the time. Eventually he ends up back outside on the now deserted patio. There's still that frantic feeling in the air. He breathes and thinks about nothing with all his might.

"Hey." Zach.

Chris hadn't really felt that he'd been present when they'd spoken earlier. Now it's like an out of body experience, pivotal and full of potential. He doesn't turn it around for fear of blurting something that would make him vulnerable.

"Hey, come on. Look at me."

Chris turns around, sighs. "You're drunk."

"Nah."

"Yah. I know your drunk-face, Zach."

"That is preposterous—I don't _have_ a 'drunk-face'."

"Really drunk," Chris continues, studying him. "You have a drunk walk, too, where you walk more balanced and evenly than normal sober people do, but you still think you're totally pulling it off."

Zach sighs. " _Anyway_. How are you enjoying. Yeah. The party."

"This is you being a good host, is that it?"

"Pretty much."

"Mm." Chris might be a little drunk himself. "So, Zach. Is there a reason why you don't just tell me what's pissing you off to my face and instead bitch at all your fake asshole friends about me? Does it please you to cut me out of your life like I'm actively trying to piss you off? Is that why it surprises you that I'd come to your fucking going away party? Because you think just because you now apparently can't stand the sight of me that I must feel the same way?"

"Um, holy shit."

"Pretty much." Chris turns away to lean on the railing and stare daggers into Zach's shrubbery.

It doesn't matter that Chris isn't looking at him—he can feel Zach shift from taken aback to fucking angry. He talks so quiet: "So you just thought you wouldn't say anything about any of this until the eve of my departure."

"The eve of your . . . this isn't the fucking Regency Era."

Zach sputters. "Who makes reference to _the Regency Era_ , Chris? You're so fucking pretentious."

"I know you are but what am I!"

This bitchy little laugh. "Okay, yeah, I'll retract that, actually."

" _You've_ never said a fucking word about it," Chris spits.

" _You_ wanted to go to New York more than I did! _You_ always talked about it, you're the one who always talks about how much you hate LA and you wanna live somewhere less superficial or what the fuck ever, and somehow you convinced me that I hated it here too even though _I_ fucking moved here . . ."

They glare at each other, realize at the same time that people are gathering by the doorway looking concerned.

Chris sighs. "You're making a scene," he mutters.

Zach runs a hand through his hair.

"I _said_ —"

"Rrrgh!" Zach gets a hold of him and they stumble off into the dark recesses of Zach's backyard. There's a fencey thing and a stupid trellis Chris is sure Zach thought gave the place 'character' and it's so dark away from the fucking flamboyant tiki lamps that Chris's shocked by it.

Zach's just a shadow person whisper-yelling at him. "You love wearing scarves!"

". . ."

"New York is all about the scarves, dude!"

"Clearly that's a rational reason to move there. Anyway I fucking hate the cold."

"Everybody fucking hates the cold, asshole, you're not a special snowflake! _That's what the scarves are for_."

"Okay, so, I can't deal with your drunk logic anymore, so I'm just gonna—"

Zach stops him with such force, hot hands, this impassable wall of whiney insistence. "Don't go."

Chris barks a laugh. " _I'm_ not."

His eyes are adjusting slowly. The movement of Zach's jaw as he talks seems strangely prominent in the dim light.

Zach's so bottled up about whatever, and it's kind of fascinating because he'd been the blasé bitchy one through this whole thing, pretending everything was fine and talking to Chris normally while still keeping him distinctly at a distance.

Zach shifts around, blurts, "You used to hate paparazzi!"

Chris makes a face. "I do! And PS, _so does everyone_!"

"No, that's. I _mean_ you used to hate . . . you used to. I don't know."

"We used to hate the same shit? Is that seriously the basis of our friendship, for you?"

" _What_ fucking friendship?"

"The fucking friendship you fucked up because you are a 10-year-old girl and think we have to do everything together or else we're not best friends anymore, and then I'm sitting here wondering why the person I confided in for years suddenly doesn't give a shit because I don't feel like moving across the country on a whim. I got a fucking job offer so I fucking took it, the end!"

Zach stops, seethes. Then, "You know what this is about? Yeah. Huh. You just never got over me. You've always had a thing for me but you're just too fucking closeted to—"

"Oh please. That's ancient history. Fucking get over yourself. Two months of sex isn't a fucking . . . I don't even know. It doesn't fucking count."

". . . It doesn't fucking count?"

Chris opens his mouth, freezes because he's pretty sure he's just been hit by an eighteen-wheeler. "Don't be fucking stupid," he says, and it comes out breathless.

Zach just stands before him with his shoulders heaving, all in shadows, looking at him? Getting closer? Kissing him?

Chris kisses back. Things seem to numb and he's unsure how long it goes on for.

Zach twists to the side to breathe. "This isn't backing up your claims of being 'over me.'"

"You . . ." Started it. ". . . can't leave."

"Goddammit," Zach murmurs, kisses him again.

Chris is just drunk enough to want this, desperate for any way to communicate with him like they understand one another again. Zach holds him so close, doesn't taste like beer or himself or anything but heat and it's so chilly in this ominously silent corner of Zach's backyard that Chris craves it like a junkie.

It’s a struggle to maneuver his arms so he can pull Zach in by the hips, but Chris somehow manages it, and Zach grinds into it and makes their kiss deeper. Chris moans and Zach hisses _Quiet!_ so Chris moans even more.

Zach's fingers find their way into Chris hair, then fumble because his hair is too short, laughs, _mm_ 's, sucks on Chris's tongue. Chris could've felt him getting hard through all the scandalously skinny jeans in the world.

Zach moves Chris suddenly, steals the focus and kisses him up against something leafy but solid, so insistently on him that Chris barely even thinks about Zach's landscaping decisions and gets caught up in the way he breathes harshly through his nose and over Chris's cheek, hints of heat through the cool night air. Chris twines his foot around Zach's legs sneakily to trip him impossibly closer, keeps Zach still so he can push their hips together over and over again obsessively and never enough and exactly what Chris wants.

Zach just keeps kissing him, progressively sloppier, like it's the most important thing ever, harder with every little noise Chris can't help making. Unlocks their lips to suctiony exhales and kisses vaguely down Chris's neck, yanking the collar of Chris's shirt down for better access while clamping his free hand over Chris's gasping mouth.

After a lovely interval of Zach sucking on his neck Chris can't help seeking stimulation with a roll of his hips, does it and feels the heat of Zach's cock hard and there and now. Zach seems to take the hint, lets the hand on Chris's mouth fall, thumbs his bottom lip along the way and lets his fingers trail down Chris's chest tantalizingly before finding purchase between Chris's legs.

" _Uh_."

"Shhh . . ."

Zach conquers the constraints of Chris's favorite jeans with startling skill, realizes with a shock of hot that it's because Zach did kind of know his way around these particular jeans, and somehow that opens the floodgates to thoughts of Zach's laugh up close in-between kisses and Zach's half missing eyebrows not looking as silly when he's asleep in Chris's bed and Zach's scrunched up eyes and when he comes.

Zach's present tense kiss snaps him out of it. Chris kisses him in an attempt to stop feeling so utterly undone, gets caught up in the movement of Zach's hand on his cock and has to tear his mouth away—kisses Zach's jaw and ear and inhales the smell of his hair, the scratch of Zach's unshaved face on Chris's cheek as he seeks out Chris's mouth again, speeds his hand and adds a diabolically clever twist at the end there.

Somewhere in the recesses of Chris's thought he knows he should be scrambling to reciprocate but he just needs the pure pleasure of this too selfishly much, arcs his hips beggingly and can't blink away that it's Zach . . .

Chris wishes he'd flat out dumped Zach, or been dumped by him, not this stupid sensible mutual breaking up thing, because then someone would be at fault. But instead they'd logic'd it out and realized they weren't right for each other and Chris doesn't _want_ that right now, just wants to want and not make any sense of the way it takes him over head to toe.

Back in reality Zach is pressing him harder into the whatever it is at Chris's back, leaves crunching and tickling Chris's neck. Chris wants to kiss Zach harder to match but Zach's mobile now, sliding down Chris's body wonderfully and just the fact that Zach would brave such unfashionable grass stains just to suck Chris off is more of a turn on then anything.

Zach yanks Chris's jeans down a little more for access, rough and followed quickly by his warm exhale over Chris's cock. Chris shivers, has to close his eyes when he catches sight of Zach's tongue licking languidly around the head with a stray strand of hair brushing Chris's leg and his shoulders in such a way that reads obsessive concentration, and that's hot too. When Zach finally takes his cock in his mouth Chris just gives up and thunks his head back and makes an embarrassingly high-pitched little noise.

Fuck he's good at this, and Chris can only hope Zach will take it as a compliment when he comes down his throat without further ado. He grips Zach's hand gripping Chris's hip, guides him by his hair, reduced to panting by the ostentatious lacey patterns his tongue sketches over the super sensitive flesh. Zach sucks gradually more and lets his free hand play with Chris's balls torturously good.

"Zach," Chris says tightly.

Zach emits an _mm_ warningly, and Chris knows he's telling him to shut the fuck up.

"Zach, I'm gonna—"

Zach sort of growls, removes his mouth with a slick sound and strokes with his hand in the meantime. "I know," he hisses. "So come."

Zach moves his hand faster, leans back in to suck on the head of Chris's cock and let his tongue work magic and Chris comes down his throat as planned, left shaky and sweaty-cold and sliding slowly down to join Zach on the grass.

Zach doesn't want him to relax or think or anything, seizes his chin to kiss him vaguely until Chris's breathing evens out and they're left staring at each other in the middle of it—can't pry their eyes apart even after they separate.

Chris looks away first, putting his clothes back in order with jittery hands, but unfortunately Zach is still looking at him heavily when he lifts his head again. We may never never meet again.

"Good party," Chris says.

"Thanks."

"I'll see you around."

"Nope."

"Well, yeah. Okay." And with that Chris flees.

*


End file.
